


Sentimet

by Arcadias_Fire



Series: The Strange Path [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Sherlock (TV), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcadias_Fire/pseuds/Arcadias_Fire
Summary: “Who are you?”  Sherlock looks around. “Based on the architecture, this is England, but your speech patterns and idioms don’t fit with that. In fact, I don’t recognize them at all, which is odd, since I do recognize your accent.” He glares at the other man. “You clearly know more than you’re letting on. What is happening?”The blond grins. It’s a wide and unnatural smile with a hint of madness to it. “I believe we are in a city called ‘London’, in the home of an actor, who I had thought was not sexually involved with his best friend. It appears I was wrong.”“Funny, I’ve found that people usually get that wrong the other way around.”In an upscale flat in a posh area of London, two men lay sleeping. That they are together now is a secret. But this story isn't aboutthem,it's about what lays beyond them and beneath their skin.Or: What happens when an asexual powerhouse meets a weapon of mass seduction.





	Sentimet

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, bear with me guys, this is a little weird. This is a direct sequel to "Strange Mischief" but is an _alternate timeline_ to "Dreaming of Mischief". This story and "Dreaming of Mischief" are NOT in continuity with one another, but both work with "Strange Mischief". It does also stand alone alright, but assumes that you've at least read "Strange Mischief".

 

 

In an upscale flat in a posh area of London, two men lay sleeping. Both are tall and thin with eyes that change color depending on the light, though at the moment their eyes are closed. One has curling dark blond hair, the other wavy dark hair but with a couple of millimeters of ginger root. Both have cheekbones you could cut yourself on if you got close enough. And millions would love to get close enough. 

 

That they are together now is a secret. One is married - his wife  _ does _ know about this, and is, perhaps surprisingly, alright with it - the other is famously a serial dater, flitting from woman to woman like any a serial monogamist. 

 

_ Lies. _

 

Ostensibly, they have one of the decade’s most epic bromances. They keep that appearance up for the sake of everyone but themselves. Admittedly, it’s good for their careers, but hiding gets old after a while. 

 

Still, this story isn’t actually about  _ them. _ What’s relevant is that they’re curled up together in a giant bed, limbs overlapping. They’ve both had a long hard day and are sleeping like the dead. 

 

A ripple of green/gold light flows over the blond. He stirs lightly in his sleep, as though he can feel the light caressing his skin. The light flows over onto his companion. It soaks into his flesh for a long few seconds until a new, different light emerges from  _ his _ skin and repels the green/gold. This new light is silvery blue, and hovers over the dark haired man like a forcefield, protecting him from the green/gold light which suffuses his lover. 

 

The green/gold retreats and settles over the blond, clinging to his limbs, seeping into his hair. Blue/green/gray eyes snap open and a frown settles over the man’s handsome face. The blue bleeds out of his eyes, leaving them gray-green.

 

The darker haired man also stirs. The silver/blue light, having done its job of repelling the invading light, settles down onto his skin. His eyes also snap open. They are gray with the tiniest hint of blue. They take in the whole room in a series of tight sweeping glances. “Where?” He frowns. “Why?” he asks, his voice a posh, clipped baritone. 

 

“I take it this is not your bedchamber either?” The blond’s voice is dark and velvety, like high-end chocolate. 

 

The dark haired man flips onto his back, moving away from his companion, and looks at the other. “No, it’s not. I went to sleep in my own bed. Alone.” 

 

“As did I. Unfortunately.” 

 

“It is not unfortunate in my case.” 

 

Gray-green eyes sweep over the dark haired man. “Ah.” 

 

He flushes under the scrutiny and wonders why. “Who are you?”  Sherlock looks around. “Based on the architecture, this is England, but your speech patterns and idioms don’t fit with that. In fact, I don’t recognize them at all, which is odd, since I do recognize your accent.” He glares at the other man. “You clearly know more than you’re letting on. What is happening?”

 

The blond grins. It’s a wide and unnatural smile with a hint of madness to it. “I believe we are in a city called ‘London’, in the home of an actor, who I had thought was  _ not _ sexually involved with his best friend. It appears I was wrong.” 

 

“Funny, I’ve found that people usually get that wrong the other way around,” the dark haired man mutters. “And who are you?”

 

“I am called Loki. And you?” 

 

“Sherlock.” 

 

“Ah. Yes. This begins to make more sense.” 

 

“I’m so glad.” Sherlock’s voice is heavy with sarcasm. 

 

Loki laughs. There’s something about that laugh that reminds Sherlock of Jim Moriarty. Not the laugh itself, which is just as dark as his voice, but the  _ meaning _ behind it. 

 

“Tell me, Sherlock,” the strange man tastes Sherlock’s name like a wine connoisseur chews a Bordeaux, “has anything strange happened to you in the past few days?” 

 

“Stranger than waking up in an unfamiliar bed with a naked man I’ve never met before?” The dark haired man rubs his chin pensively. “Actually, yes.” 

 

“Perhaps you’ve encountered a man who looks remarkably like yourself under… odd circumstances?”

 

“Yes. I’d half convinced myself that it was a hallucination brought on by specific substances I might or might not have recently imbibed. Perhaps it was less of a delusion than I’d thought.” 

 

“Indeed.”  

 

“You’ve had a similar experience,” Sherlock says. 

 

“Similar, yes.” Loki tips his head to the side. “I wonder why you’re here now, though.”

 

“You came here on purpose, didn’t you?” 

 

Loki smiles and nods. He stretches, exposing long lines of muscle and pale skin. Sherlock thinks that this might be for his benefit. He has to admit that there is an artistic appeal, even if this isn’t the sort of thing he’d normally be interested in. 

 

“You can stop that.”

 

Loki raises an eyebrow. “No one is forcing you to look.”  

 

Sherlock huffs a sigh. “I’m fairly certain that this is not my body, whatever it may look like, and that it achieved orgasm within the last… four hours. I feel no need pursue anything with you, no matter how aesthetically pleasing your features might be from an objective standpoint.” 

 

Loki laughs. “Strange must have loved talking to you.” 

 

“You spoke with the American who invaded my head, yes? You and he… no, no that’s not it. You don’t care for one another, that’s obvious. But you have found someone you’re interested in, recently. Is that why you’re so eager to attract my attention? To make them… him… jealous? Or  are you simply on the pull?” 

 

Loki snarls and dives at Sherlock, pinning him to the bed. 

 

“Oh… oh of course!  _ You’re _ jealous! You said it yourself, you didn’t think they were involved, but they are. So which is it? This body or the one you’re in?” 

 

“You are insufferable,” Loki growls into Sherlock’s face. 

 

“Dull. I get that all the time. Can’t you come up with more interesting insults?” 

 

“I could kill you and not even blink.” 

 

“Ah, so it’s the body you’re in.” The snarl distorting the handsome face above him might have been more impressive if Sherlock wasn’t threatened with death on at least a weekly basis. “I doubt you’d want your ‘new friend’ to go to jail for murdering his lover, would you?” 

 

The long hand around his throat says differently. “Do I appear to be the kind of person who looks kindly on not getting his way?” 

 

Sherlock grins. “No, but you still want something you can’t have.” 

 

The pressure on his throat slowly increases until Sherlock can’t talk. Can’t breathe. Automatically, his hands push at the wrist at his neck, scrabbling for pressure points that unaccountably don’t work. “You… don’t… want… this…” he gasps out. 

 

The hand moves and Sherlock can breathe easily again. Loki flops onto his back, away from the detective, scowling up at the ceiling. “You are correct. I do not wish any harm to befall this body.” 

 

Sherlock stares up at the ceiling as well. “That wasn’t the hesitation of inexperience. You’ve killed before.” 

 

Loki nods, a brief jerk of the head. “Many times.”

 

“You don’t like it though.” 

 

“I have no issue with killing, but prefer to talk my way out of poor situations. Violence lacks subtlety.” 

 

“Hmm.” Sherlock rolls onto his side and looks at the other man. “But you come from a culture of violence. It’s obvious from your instinct reaction towards aggression and the poise of your shoulders. So, a warrior culture, then. But you don’t identify as a warrior. Deliberately. You’ve exposed your sensitive areas to me four times already. No warrior would do that, even one who didn’t consider his adversary a threat. The instinct runs too deep. And you’re used to getting your way, only thwarted by those who you actually care about.” 

 

“And you are too intelligent for your own good,” Loki snaps.

 

“True.” 

 

“Tell me, Sherlock, is there someone in your life whose approval you value? Be honest. I will be able to tell if you lie.” 

 

“I… yes.” 

 

“Someone who loves you?”

 

Sherlock shrugs. 

 

“I’ll take that as a yes. What if he, what if he no longer loved you? What if he hated you instead? What would you do to find another to take his place?” 

 

“He would never…”

 

“You push him away constantly, do you not? Belittle his intelligence? Take his strength for granted? You will drive him off, eventually.” 

 

“The American said the same thing.” 

 

Loki laughs. “Of course he did. Strange is fairly intelligent, for a human.” 

 

Sherlock raises an eyebrow at that. “You’re not human?” 

 

“I am not.” 

 

“Prove it.” 

 

Loki rolls his eyes. “My current body is human, so that would be quite difficult. Unless you’d care for a demonstration of what 800 years of sexual experience feels like? Not that you have much to compare it to.” 

 

Sherlock opens his mouth then snaps it closed. 

 

Loki’s eyes glow. “You are actually tempted, are you not?”  

 

“Scientific curiosity only, I assure you.” 

 

“You like to think yourself above such base things, but deep down you think that there may be something  _ wrong _ with you, is that not so?” Loki leans forward, invading Sherlock’s personal space in a far less murderous way. “You think you might be missing something.”

 

“I… of course I’ve thought that. It doesn’t change the way I feel. Sex is boring. I’d rather spend my time doing something more interesting.” 

 

Loki laughs and kisses him. Sherlock could almost certainly avoid the kiss, but honestly, he’s a little curious. He’s kissed before - never with any romantic intent - and this is no different. Well, perhaps a little. It’s a curious sensation. More pleasant than he expected - it is just simple nerve stimulation after all - if… wet. How can something be so slimy and still manage to be mildly pleasant? Something to do with the number of nerve endings in the lips and mouth and the skill with which they’re applied. 

 

Sherlock suspects that most people don’t think about kissing in terms of sliminess. It seems like it would interfere with the experience. 

 

Loki pulls away after a minute. “Now you can say you have been kissed by a god.”

 

“If I ever want to get sectioned, I’ll consider it.”  

 

“I doubt you need my help for that.” 

 

“Likely not.” 

 

“So?” Loki asks after a moment. 

 

“So? Oh, the kiss. It was alright, if you like that sort of thing.” 

 

Loki laughs. “I so rarely see anyone lie and tell the truth at the same time. It’s quite entertaining.” 

 

Sherlock scowls at the god. “I’m not lying.” 

 

“You are, and yet you are not. As I said, it is fascinating. Your body found that a pleasurable experience, yet your mind did not.”  

 

“To be fair, this isn’t my body.” 

 

Loki laughs again. “True. Neither is this mine. I assure you, my usual tongue is far more talented.” 

 

Sherlock grimaces. “Please, no more talk about tongues. Tongues are for talking.”

 

“I excel at that as well.”

 

“I can tell.” 

 

They lay in silence for a time. 

 

“What were you trying to do?” Sherlock asks after a while. 

 

“I was… I simply needed to see him again.” Loki’s voice sounds strangely broken. “He was kind to me.” 

 

“Sentiment,” Sherlock mutters derisively.  

 

Loki laughs, harsh and mad. “Yes. It seems I cannot escape sentiment’s grasp, no matter how hard I try.” 

 

“Why am I here then?”

 

“That’s an excellent question. A defense mechanism, perhaps?” 

 

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. 

 

“To protect your form from outside influence.”

 

“From you, you mean.”  

 

“Likely.” 

 

“So how do I get back?” 

 

Loki shrugs. “You are still tied to your normal body. You should be able to find the tether in your mind. You are intelligent enough to do so.” 

 

“And if I leave, what will you do?” 

 

“I shall not harm either of these bodies.”

 

“That isn’t what I asked.” 

 

Loki grins at him. “Clever. I shall go as well.” 

 

“Now you’re lying.” 

 

“Very clever.” Loki nods, eyes wide. Then his features crumple. “I intend to try and contact my host and speak with him again.” 

 

“Do you think he wants that?” 

 

“He expressed a desire to see me again.” 

 

The detective looks at the god with a steady, judgemental gaze. “You're almost certainly a criminal of one sort or another, but I doubt the body you're in is guilty of anything in particular. You've put me in a difficult spot.” 

 

“Have I? I am so terribly sorry.” 

 

“It's not as though I have any idea who you really are anyway.” 

 

“I did not lie about my name.” 

 

“Irrelevant. You are a parasite in your current body.”

 

“As are you.” 

 

Sherlock waves a hand. “I didn't choose to be here. You did. In any event, I feel as though I should attempt to force you to leave.” 

 

Loki laughs. “And how do you intend to do that? You have no concept of the mechanism which brought us both here. You cannot hope to physically overpower me. Even if I am not as strong as I would usually be, I still have centuries of combat experience.” 

 

“You’ve given me the key already; sentiment.” 

 

“What?” 

 

Sherlock gets to his feet and takes a step towards the window. “I can harm this body, which will put your current host in danger, not to mention some degree of distress, I’m sure.” 

 

Loki’s eyes go wide and he sits up. “You wouldn’t.”

 

Sherlock raises an eyebrow and takes another step towards the window. 

 

Loki’s eyes narrow. “I acknowledge that you might do damage yourself in order to ‘catch the villain’, but I do not believe you will harm an innocent.” He smiles. “No matter how cold you believe yourself to be, you do have a sense of morality.” 

 

Sherlock frowns at Loki. Was he right? Sherlock had no idea what crimes this… being might be guilty of. That he had killed didn’t  _ necessarily _ make him a murderer. Though of course he might be. Loki was clearly ruthless, but incentivized to keep both their bodies safe and well, bruises forming on Sherlock’s throat notwithstanding. “Very well. You are correct, I can’t justify damaging this body to coerce you. You’re not harming me and mine at the moment.” 

 

“And I shall not. I have no reason to.” 

 

“I imagine you could probably come up with some creative ways of alienating these two from one another.” Sherlock gestures between them. 

 

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Is that truly your affair?” 

 

“Not really. Lover’s quarrels only sometimes descend into violence, and then it’s the most tedious kind.” 

 

“You spend a great deal of time being bored, do you not?”

 

“You have no idea.” Sherlock flops back onto the bed.

 

Loki gives Sherlock a long look. There’s nothing sexual about it, despite them both being naked, but it makes the detective uncomfortable anyway. It takes him a moment to realize why; it’s the sort of look he or Mycroft might give someone. “You are a curious creature. Your soul is of chaos but you have devoted yourself to creating order. It is… odd.” 

 

“The soul is a myth.” 

 

Loki laughs and shrugs. “If that is what you wish to believe.”

 

“I’ve seen nothing in my life that would convince me otherwise.”

 

“You have seen little, then.” 

 

“Everything I’ve seen can be explained by logic and science.”

 

“Even this?” Loki raises an eyebrow. “Waking up in another man’s body, in  _ his _ lover’s bed in an alien world?” 

 

“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this. I don’t claim to understand all of physics.” 

 

“Of course not.” Loki rolls his eyes. “We must come to an accord, you and I, and debating the nature of the universe will not aid in that.” 

 

Sherlock studies the other man silently for a moment, then sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re lying. You’re giving me an illusion of choice when you could force me out if you wanted. Why?”

 

Loki’s lips twitch. “You know the answer to that.”

 

“You find me… amusing.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose and makes a small moue of distaste. “You’re bored as well.” 

 

“I am generally surrounded by those of inferior intellect. I find you… refreshing.” 

 

“And yet you desperately want to make contact with your new friend again, why are you putting it off? Fear?” Sherlock shakes his head. “This is why I avoid the whole matter of relationships. They make people stupid.”

 

Loki bears his teeth at the detective. “Do you wish me to force you back to your own realm? It shall be less pleasant than if you went of your own accord, I assure you.” 

 

Sherlock shrugs. “Your choice.”

 

“You do not believe that I would. You think that I find you too entertaining.” 

 

“I think that you are starved for attention, and I’m currently giving it to you.” 

 

Loki shakes his head. “Intelligent conversation, perhaps.”

 

“No, attention. I recognize the symptoms well enough.” Sherlock leans forward, fingers steepled in front of his face. “Younger sibling? Perpetually in the elder’s shadow? Desperate for approval.” 

 

Loki snarls, his hands clenching into fists, until he visibly forces himself to relax. “I believe you may be projecting your own experience onto mine.” 

 

“That doesn’t make it less true.” Sherlock looks over his hands, wishing that he could trust the signals of the other man’s body. The way he holds himself, yes, but those calluses on his hands are from some sort of sword form, he’s certain of it, but they’re signs of the  _ host’s _ body, not the man he’s talking to. Loki may not even look like this man, though Sherlock suspects he does, given what he can see of his own host. He vaguely wonders what sort of relationship their two hosts have. Sexual, obviously, but do they live together? No. There’s evidence of only one person usually sleeping in this bedroom, one man’s belongings, though he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a drawer for the lover’s clothes and an extra toothbrush in the ensuite, though they may not have gotten to that point. 

 

Wait, he’s missing something. Wedding band on the side table on “his” side of the bed beside a mobile. There’s a matching tan line on his own hand. He leans past Loki to look at the other table. Mobile. Spectacles. No ring. “They’re having an affair.” 

 

“What?”

 

“Our… hosts. They’re involved in an affair. Mine is married.” 

 

Loki frowns. “I don’t understand.” 

 

Sherlock looks at the other man and he suddenly gets the feeling like this must be what it’s like to talk to  _ him _ about certain things. “You really are an alien, aren’t you?”

 

“God.” 

 

“Not from this planet.” 

 

“Well, no.” 

 

“Alien.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes. “Whatever makes you happy.” 

 

Sherlock lets his breath out in a long sigh. “If your goal is to capture your host’s attentions, you might have a better chance than I thought. They’re involved in an illicit relationship.” 

 

Loki holds up a long finger. “One, that will not help. The very illicit nature of a relationship adds ‘spice’, you might say. Two,” he holds up a second, “why do you assume that his spouse is unaware of their relationship?” 

 

“I…” Sherlock realizes that this is very much not the area of his expertise. “That’s how it usually goes? I am aware that other… approaches to romance exist, and if I could observe the people involved, it would be child’s play to determine the nature of their relationship. But without that body language or any other evidence to observe, it is more logical to assume the more usual mode of operations, which would be an affair.” 

 

“That is… useful information.” Loki rubs his lower lip pensively. “I would know for certain.” 

 

“How? Short of texting my host’s wife or husband at… 2:00 AM.” 

 

“Texting?” 

 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and grabs the mobile from his bedside table. It takes him three tries to unlock the ridiculously simple locking pattern based on the smudges on the screen. It’s an unfamiliar model, but he quickly finds the texting app. “Huh.” 

 

“Something of interest?” Loki asks.

 

“Well, I was wrong.” He holds the phone out.

 

_ Have fun with Tom! _

 

“That certainly implies that she is aware of the situation.” 

 

“I mean, there are other interpretations, but yes, it does.” 

 

The two men stare at the screen, scooted close together, legs overlapping. Sherlock abruptly realizes that they’re touching, and he doesn’t care. It means nothing. Or is it just comfortable? Perhaps his host’s sense of personal space is transferring. 

 

“What will you do?” Sherlock asks. 

 

“I have not decided, but I shall certainly speak with him again. I am… glad that I have this additional knowledge.” 

 

“I’m glad I was wrong, for your sake.” 

 

“I… thank you.” Loki runs his hands through his hair and frowns. “I would attempt to make contact with him now.” 

 

“You won’t do anything… rash?” 

 

“I am capable of dealing with rejection, mortal. Nor am I without subtlety.” 

 

Sherlock studied the face of the other man, and nods to himself. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it.” 

 

“I appreciate it.” Loki looked steadily back at Sherlock. “We may meet again.” 

 

“We might,” Sherlock allowed. 

 

“I would not find it unpleasant.” 

 

“It  _ has _ been interesting.” 

 

Loki smiles. It’s bright and shark-like. “High praise indeed.” He reaches out and brushes his thumb across Sherlock’s cheekbone. “If you ever wish to... experiment, I would be pleased to teach you. What is the phrase? ‘No strings attached’.” 

 

“I’ll consider it,” Sherlock replies, knowing full well that Loki can taste his sincerity. 

 

The god smiles again. He lays back down on the bed, drawing the covers up over his muscular chest. “Return to your home before you become too tired. It would be better for you if you do not become exhausted.” 

 

“I will.” 

 

Loki’s eyes drift closed and he appears to fall asleep; breath even and slow. Sherlock looks around the room. For a moment, he wonders what it would be like to have this. To have a lover sleeping by his side. The companionship sounds pleasant, but the rest sounds… complicated. And - no matter how curious he might be - ultimately not worth the effort.  _ Maybe _ if John ever really wanted… 

 

Sherlock lays down as well, curved onto his side, and pulls the covers up over himself. He finds the line that Loki had spoke of easily enough, pulls on it, and finds himself propelled away. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So why did I do this? Why is it not in continuity with "Dreaming of Mischief"? I'm willing to bend my characters relationships, but not my metaphysics. Also, Sherlock and Loki are too good together to not interact. I've only seen a handful of stories with them together (some of it excellent) and it was so obvious that it had to happen in my world. 
> 
> Anyway, there could potentially be more of this timeline if people are interested. Please drop me a comment if you want more of this!


End file.
